Counting Cards
by AlwaysEatTheRude21
Summary: All bad things come in three... So do all good things. From three blind mice to three wise men, it seems life has a particular liking for such a simple number. Harper Potter's life was no different, and so it was the death of three that irrevocably changed her life... For better or for worse, she still isn't sure. Fem!Harry/Wesley. HAITUS
1. Petunia, Vernon, Dudley

Harper Potter stood proudly but as still as stone underneath the black umbrella clasped in her hand tightly, knuckles growing white from the pressure, fat raindrops cascading around her, obscuring her view of the three oak caskets being lowered into three freshly dug graves. The smell of wet mud filling Harpers nostrils and adhering there, making her think she would never fully be able to shake the smell off. The three tombstones, polished and shining in dark granite proclaimed to the world the names of the recently deceased in chiselled golden script. Petunia Dursley. Vernon Dursley. Dudley Dursley.

They had died by how they had lived, fussing over their precious son. Only this time, Dudley had kicked off in the back of their car over some mundane new thing he wanted that he had heard about from the cars radio, causing Vernon and Petunia to take their eyes of the road ahead to promise the red faced boy whatever he wanted. Subsequently, none of them had seen the eighteen wheeler truck veer for them head first. For once, Harper was happy they had locked her into her cupboard rather then taking her with them like they so often did. For once, her treatment at the Dursley's hands had come out in her favour rather then hurt limbs, blistering insults being thrown her way or cramped spaces.

The week that followed their death had been a tumultuous one. Dumbledore was scrabbling like a duck on ice for a place and a family Harper could be adopted into. The Wizengamot however wanted to follow every procedure necessary, going through every offer with a fine tooth comb. Harper didn't mind, the last time she had been handed over like a broken toy to people, she had ended up with the Dursley's, and Harper knew how that had ended up as all too well. She would rather avoid a replay of those events if possible.

The Weasley's, the Lovegood's and the Longbottom's were Dumbledore's top choices, but for some reason, one that was surely going over the top of Harper's head, the Wizengamot had refused all three without so much of a glance at the case they had brought to the court. At fifteen, Harper was still under-age, in both the wizarding and muggle world. It wasn't a case of should Harper Potter be adopted, but one of who she should be adopted by. And by the looks of it, the Wizengamot did not trust Dumbledore's choice of candidates.

With the believed threat of Voldemort looming over her head, Harper could understand Dumbledore's frantic efforts in the beginning. Of course he wanted to keep her close, for her safety. Well... That was what she had originally believed. Right before she got called in by the lawyer who had been appointed by the Wizengamot to oversee her adoption. Mr. Lionfort had done some digging, and in doing said digging, had uncovered her treatment at the Dursley's hands, the unlawful way Dumbledore had dumped her on their doorstep without so much of a background check on them, a check up on her welfare in the following years, and something that Dumbledore had buried to keep hidden. From Harper and the Wizengamot.

It didn't really matter at the end of it. For here she was, meant to be saying her last goodbyes to a family she couldn't call family. Soon, she would head back to the Dursley's house to meet the people that were adopting her. Strangers, complete faceless people that she would live with from now on. Would they be like the Dursley's? Was another cupboard in her future? Harper didn't think she could go through all that again, not after surviving the Dursley's. It was a blow to her pride as it was, having and the Wizengamot know of her situation with the Dursley's. If it were to happen all over again, if it really was a cycle she couldn't get out from, then surely the fault didn't lay with the people that took her in, surely it fell onto her shoulders? Was she really that much of a freak, of an burden that she just couldn't be loved?

No, she didn't believe so. Dumbledore, that old manipulative bastard was the one who left her with the Dursley's, knowing full well on how they would treat her. He counted on it. A weak, abused and lonesome child was easier to use as a puppet than one that came from a loving family. She also had to keep her hope going. If Harper didn't, then what was she left with? A life of abuse and confusion. It had to be better than the Dursley's. It just had to be, for her sanity.

Family. She was going to see her family. The last ties she had to her mother and father. It was an odd concept to accept after so long of believing she was truly on her own in this life. She had lived her whole life believing she only had the Dursley's. Then Sirius came along, and like always, her hope had been snatched out from under her grasping fingers when she was told he had to stay on the run, that she couldn't stay with him. She thought she would be forever stuck with the people that had treated her as nothing better than a rabid dog. A servant at best when they needed or wanted something. That was all she was ever going to be, that was who she was. And after so long of living that life, she had come to believe that too. That was her life, her path, and that was all she was ever going to be.

As bad as it sounded, as much as she hated herself for it, standing in front of the Dursley's coffins, watching them to be lowered to their resting place, Harper couldn't help but feel thankful that they had did one thing for her. Die. Now she was free, free from them, free from Dumbledore, free from who-ever else wanted to pull her strings. They had left the bared door to her cage open, and as much as she wanted to run out of it and into the light, she was half frightened of what she would find on the other side. Was it going to be worse than what she had already lived through... What was that saying? Was she jumping from the frying pan into the fire?

Of course she wasn't quiet out of the woods yet. She was still irrevocably under the looming shadow that Voldemort had cast over her. But then again, that too was all hear say. Little crumbs Dumbledore had fed to her. If Voldemort was really alive and breathing, why hadn't he made his move yet? Why was the ministry not enacting full out war against Voldemort's agenda? After that meeting with her lawyer, Harper couldn't help but question everything she had been told, especially by the old headmaster. How much more had he hidden from her? How much different would her life be if he hadn't have interfered and threw her to the gaping jaws of the Dursley's?

Even if Voldemort was still out there, lurking, waiting for his chance to strike like the viper he was, it still didn't change the sudden freedom Harper felt. She would no longer have to go back to the Dursley's every summer and winter. She would no longer go hungry for days, she wouldn't have to stand on a knifes edge waiting for one little thing to set her uncle off into a frenzy of rage, often leading to one of his meaty fists heading her way. No more cramped cupboards, no more bruises or broken bones, no more.

Standing underneath that umbrella, dressed all in black baggy and tatty clothing, the only kind she owned that was passed down from Dudley, Harper Potter was scared. Petrified and confused of where she was heading. With the Dursley's she knew how to act, how to survive. Keep her head down, do what they said when they said it and never answer back. What if she messed this up? She didn't know the new rules the people adopting her lived by. What if she slipped once, and even if they didn't beat her or lock her up like the Dursley's did, that they realized she was not worth the effort and sent her back like you would with a faulty toaster?

The only reason the Dursley's didn't throw her to the curb was because of the imagined threat they believed her 'kind' would be to them. These people who were adopting her didn't know about her kind, they weren't allowed to know. They were simply told she was gifted and went to a special school in Scotland every summer. She would be back to being alone if they sent her back. Harper Potter didn't want to be alone. She never wanted to be alone again.

Harper was putting her foot down. If this couple, if the last dregs of her family turned out to be a lot more like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon then she expected, then she would run. She wouldn't... Couldn't put up with that situation, that treatment again. The Dursley's had taken her self confidence, her childhood, her mothers and fathers memories from her, but she sure as hell wouldn't let her sanity go. Because of them, the Dursley's, she couldn't stand being touched, couldn't stomach it, she jumped when people moved to fast and she was never any good at expressing herself. What else could these new people take away from her? First sign of trouble, she would run. She couldn't afford to do anything but that. Damn the wizarding or muggle law.

A thin and bony hand landed on her shoulder, bringing her away from the sight of the funeral and making her grimace at the contact. None too subtly, she shook the limb and frustration off and glanced up, Harper took in McGonagall's warm face that held a grim set to her thin lips. Dumbledore had wanted to take guardianship of Harper as soon as he heard the news of the Dursley's untimely death, but the Wizengamot would hear nothing of it. Instead McGonagall had been given temporary guardianship of her, and in full honesty, Harper couldn't be more thankful that the strict, silent but comforting woman was by her side at this time. Maybe Harper could borrow some of her silent strength when she would have to head back to the Dursley's and face the people who were taking her in.

Right now she felt weak, like an exposed nerve. She was alone, yet not alone. Free, yet still caged. Left was right and down was up. Everything she ever knew about her family was a mirage. In the light of this funeral, she was in a new world she didn't know she belonged in. She didn't know what she should do, what she should say. What could she say? In the next week, things would either be better then they ever were, or she would be back in the same cycle she had been in her entire life.

"It's time Miss's Potter. You're aunt is waiting for you and I'm sure you're anxious to meet her too."

An aunt. Another member of her family that she never knew existed till a week ago. Her mother had another sister. An adopted one, but still another sister, one that grew up with Lily Evans and Petunia Dursley. Someone who could tell her about her mother, who knew stories from another life. Someone who, by all accounts from Mr. Lionfort and the documents that had been dug up in his heavy investigation, an Aunt who had been fighting for Harper's custody since she was orphaned fourteen years ago. An aunt who, by the people who had met her and talked to her, cared deeply for a niece she had not seen in over fourteen years. An aunt who Dumbledore had did everything in his power to keep away from her, to wipe off all records linked to Harper. Harper Potter had family left, and now... Now she was finally going to meet them.

* * *

 **NEXT CHAPTER:** The mystery aunt's point of view as she waits for Harper to arrive at the Dursley's house, and some startling and disheartening discoveries about Harper's home life...

 **A.N:** Yes, this leaves a lot of questions but hey, it is the first chapter/prologue, if I gave you all the answers in one go, what would be the point of writing any more? Plus, I'm a bit of a troll, leaving things up in the air is one of my favourite things to do/ Don't worry too much, the Aunts name will be given out next chapter, and I'm nearly a hundred percent sure some of you will guess who it is. Every time I think I'm being smart, It's proved otherwise. XD

This chapter is short, especially compared to my other stories which average around 5k per chapter, but I'm taking this one easy, just letting it come to me rather then plan every last thing out and I'm sure given time, the chapter length will shoot up, it always does.

This is set just before Harry's fourth year, where he's fifteen. So the whole triwizard tournament hasn't happened yet, and so Voldemort's full return hasn't either.

So, this is going to be Wesley/Fem!Harry. I'm doing a whole bunch of Marvel T.V crossovers with Fem!Harry. I already have a Kilgrave/Fem!Harry one out (If you already read that, don't worry, the next chapter will be out soon) and the next two to come out will be a Matt/Fem!Harry and Frank Castle/Fem!Harry. At the moment, I'm not too sure exactly when they will be out, but it will be soon.

Well, I think that's about it really. I hope you enjoyed this tidbit, and will also like the following things to come.

And PLEASE, if you have the spare time, drop a review! They lighten up my day and get my fingers typing faster. They also stop me from worrying that I'm not writing complete shite! Until next time, stay classy! -AlwaysEatTheRude21


	2. Glasses, Locket, Photo

**Glasses, Locket, Photo.**

"Bingo."

The woman, dressed in a pressed designer dress, kitten heels and a leather handbag stood up from her crouched position near a rather large flower pot. Dusting her hands off on her knees, she proudly held up the key she had found stashed under the flower pot, showing her prize to the bulky figure of the man behind her. Smiling, she hoisted her handbag further up her shoulder and walked over to the door, sliding the key home and clicking the door open with a twist of her wrist.

"Petunia always hid the key there back when I used to visit, even when everyone who knew her knew were it would be. I see nothing's changed over the years."

Giving one last smile over her shoulder to her fiancé, she flung the door open and walked in. She was meant to wait outside for Harper and her guardian to arrive, but the woman couldn't help herself. They had kept her only link to Lily Evans, the one person she counted as a true sister since she was adopted into the Evan's family when she was twelve, away from her for fourteen years. Fourteen long years of pointless court battles for visitation and custody.

How could they think she would be able to stay outside when she knew she could easily get in and see where her niece had lived for her relatively short life? This little house on Privet drive, nearly identical to all the others lining the suburban road, held the un-answered questions she had held inside her for years. The temptation was too much to ignore, especially when she was this close to finally meeting the girl she had fought so hard to see.

Of course, the circumstances could be better, but it was no secret that her and Petunia had never seen eye to eye. The one time she had met Petunia's husband and portly son was enough for her to stomach, and although she felt the sting of loss by their deaths, it was over shadowed by the joy of meeting Harper and finally taking the teen home with her.

This was her chance at being a mother. Unfortunately that right had been taken away from her when she was in a car crash seventeen years ago, snatching away her ability to have children of her own by a stray shard of glass from the crash to her abdomen. Ironic really, that after all this time, it was another car crash that would allow her the same opportunity that was taken away from her. But beggars can't be choosers, and there was no way in hell she was going to look this gift horse in the mouth, even by the solemn circumstances it was brought around by.

Strolling the short distance into the living room, the woman dumped her bag onto the sofa, getting hit with a strong sense of nostalgia. Nothing had changed at all since her last visit. Not a single thing. The T.V was in the same place, the same ornaments on the fire place. The only difference was the littering of framed photo's on the walls and tables.

Smiling broadly, the woman wondered over and looked through the photo's with wondrous eyes, only to grow weary as she passed more and more photo's and found nothing of what she was looking for. There were multiple of Dudley Dursley, nearly all the photo's having the plump and scowling boy in them. There were plenty of Petunia and Vernon. But as she came to the final ones lining the fireplace, picking up the last one in tightly gripped hands, the woman grew apprehensive. There wasn't a single one of Harper. Not even one with her partially in frame.

For a split second, she was half afraid she had broken into the wrong house, only to quell that feeling as soon as it had arisen. She knew this house, she knew the people in the photo's. Feeling someone standing behind her, the woman turned around and looked up to her tall Fiancé, frown puckering in the middle of her eyebrows.

"What's wrong?"

The woman shook the whole thing off and placed the photo back down on the fire place. Maybe Harper just didn't like her photo being taken. Even as she told herself this and her fingers left the glass and metal frame of the last photo, she couldn't fully get rid of the heavy feeling in her chest. Something... Something just didn't feel right. Instead of voicing her concerns, she ironed out her frown and sent the man behind her a bright smile as she turned to face him.

"Nothing, I'm just nervous."

The woman had never really believed in love, not before she met her fiancé that was. Of course it was nothing close to the romance people were spoon fed as a child with fairy tales and glossy magazine pictures of white weddings, but it was true. They both had their own issue's, neither one of them would deny that simply fact, but together, they weren't issue's, they were just another fissure of that person's personality. Something else to love.

There was no one quite like her fiancé, in personality and looks. It was hard getting to know him in the beginning, him being naturally closed off and a hesitant individual, he often seemed like he would rather blend into the shadows then to jump into the spotlight. Which was in complete contrast his looks. Her fiancé was a hard person to look over, standing six foot five, broad, larger than most in honesty, and always dressed in a sharp tailored suit. It was easy to say when he entered a room, ones eye didn't normally pass over him without at least a momentary scan.

She had known him for nearly a year when he had popped the question, quick in some people's standard, but with him she just knew her answer. Yes. He knew before he had asked to marry her about her infertility, her on going battle to adopt Harper, and the woman had thought, really and truly believed he would have turned tail and ran for it. She wouldn't have blamed him, she had years to come to accept the fact she wouldn't be having any children of her own, her fiancé didn't have that luxury, and with her, if he really wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, then adoption or surrogacy were their only options.

Instead, he had stuck by her and her nearly crippling need of adopting Harper. In fact, over time, nearly six months after their engagement, when the Dursley's had died and they learned that actually adopting Harper was a very close possibility rather than some day dream, he had grown as equally as excited as she had.

Of course he didn't show it the same exuberant way she did, god forbid. But she had caught him on more then one occasion standing inside the bedroom that would be Harper's when they finally got her home, when he thought no one was watching him, fluffing up the bedspread and pillow's, adding things here and there, a little smile pulling at the corner's of his lips.

"That's understandable. You've been waiting for this for years. However, I'm sure it is all for naught. Harper will love you just as much as you love her. It's inevitable."

The way he had said it was if he was describing the weather, or the earths orbit around the sun. A fact. Smiling broadly once more, her apprehension floating to the back of her skull, still there but diminished, she grasped his large hand and squeezed, feeling cheeky.

"Well, even if she doesn't, I wore you down didn't I?"

It worked as the tension eased out of both of them, he glanced down to the blue carpet and she was graced with one of his small and rare, but precious smiles. Sometimes she felt like she was one of the only few who could bring that side of him out, and it gave her a warm feeling in her chest. Yes, it may not be true love, but they both loved each other truly. That's what counts in real life. Slipping away from him, the woman made her way into the hallway and to the bottom of the stairs that led to the upper rooms, stalling and glancing over to him with her foot resting on the bottom stairs.

"Come on, let's see if we can find Harper's room. By the looks of it she has already packed but if she is anything like me or Lily, she would have forgotten multiple things."

Glancing down and behind her, the woman took in the small suitcase perched just a foot away from the stairs. Just one, and so small it really could only fit clothes in. And not many at that. The apprehension flared up again, only this time it was harder to stomp down. That couldn't be all she was taking with her surely? Maybe Harper had only managed to pack one bag before she had to go to the funeral and was planning on finishing off once she got back.

Still, the woman had only been here for less then ten minutes and there was already too many maybe's. The man gave her a sharp nod and followed her up the stairs, miraculously his footsteps were nearly soundless on the old wooden floor boards compared to her own that went clack clack from her high heels.

Pausing at the first door, the woman shook herself, still feeling the echoes of anxiety and opened the door. This was obviously the master bedroom by the size and the flat screen hanging up on the wall opposite the king size bed. Not having any need or want to go searching through Petunia's or Vernon's laundry, the woman quickly shut the door. Grimacing at the mental image of having to do so. Strolling down the hall, the woman stopped at the next door.

The second door housed an obvious boy's room, Dudley's. Toy's were everywhere, some piled in the corners of the room. The double bed was in the shape of a race car, two large TV's were on the window desk and a bedside table. The woman frowned and pulled back out of the room. While it was a boys room, it was obviously not a fifteen nearly sixteen year old boy's room. Looking back at the door she had hastily pushed open, the woman read the wooden letters pinned to the door, painted in camouflage. Dudley.

This time the woman shut the door slower, more than a little confused. The last time she had seen the Dursley's, while admittedly a long time ago, she wasn't aware of any mental problems being attached to Dudley, which would explain the room perfect for a five year old instead of a fifteen year old boy. In fact Dudley had seemed like any other boy his age, spoilt rotten even at one, with Petunia running in circles around the boy faffing around every little thing, but all be it normal.

All though, she wouldn't put it past Petunia not to mention anything that could be wrong with Dudley, Petunia had always had a skewed sense of self riotousness and pride like that. To Petunia, whether to her or to Lily, or the woman's adopted parents when they were alive, it was always a one up with her. My house is better than yours, my husband is better then yours, my boy is better than yours. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she had hidden something wrong with Dudley in a way to keep that picture perfect family she always wanted to portray to the world.

With quick footsteps, quicker then necessary, the woman stormed over to the third and final room, pushing it wide open without much thought and stumbled in. Now this room looked fit for a fifteen year old. The toy's were missing, replaced by posters. Poster's that made the apprehension not just flare when the woman took them in, but to blare alarms in her mind. Half naked women and wrestlers lined the painted dark blue walls.

Quickly, she made her way to the large cherry wood dresser and pulled the mirrored door open, her eyes scanning through the clothes that were ironed and dangling on hangers. The clothes were large, and while Harper could be on the plus side, the style and the fact she had just seen photo's of Dudley down stairs wearing these very clothes told her this wasn't her wardrobe.

The woman ignored her fiancé who had worriedly called her name, most likely due to her frantic search, leaving the wardrobes doors open, she went to the desk and flicked through the papers scattered on it. Homework, with Dudley's name in nearly unintelligible writing stared back at her. This was Dudley's room. Another room. But... There was no other rooms upstairs apart from the bathroom. Where the hell had Harper been sleeping then?

"This... This isn't Harper's room. None of these are Harper's room..."

Dropping the papers she had read, the woman turned to the man standing in the door way, dread slugging through her veins. Petunia hated, no that word didn't quite fit the depths of Petunia's feelings towards Lily, Petunia loathed Lily. The crow faced Petunia did nothing to hide that, in fact the woman thought Petunia liked to boast about it. She hated everything to do with their sister, Lily. She degraded James Potter every time Lily brought him around to meet the family, something the woman didn't get as the curly haired fool was nothing short of charming, warm and lovable, a perfect match for the sometimes pessimistic, straight to the point and always logical Lily. Petunia and the Dursley's had even refused to meet Harper when she had been born.

Surely, especially after the terrible loss of Lily and James, petunia wouldn't... Couldn't have transferred that hate onto their little daughter. No. The woman was getting ahead of herself. There was most probably a bedroom down stairs, in a backroom that was Harper's. She was simply jumping to conclusions. The law, the adoption agencies she had fought in court wouldn't have left Harper with a family who didn't care for her. Not when the woman had put up such a fight to get the girl herself.

Still, even while she was trying to talk herself down from the anxiety and fear she was feeling, the woman slipped past her fiancé and tumbled down the stairs, hearing her fiancé follow after her. Balancing herself on the wall of the stairs, the woman walked down the halfway quickly, in search of the backroom she was sure was down here, when something long, cold and metal brushed her finger tips.

Stalling, the woman looked down at her hands, pulling her fingers away to get a better look at what had caught her attention. The stairs cubby hole. Nothing too shocking really to warrant such a reaction, but something in her gut was screaming at her. Most likely the Slide lock that her fingers had caught. The woman tried to make sense of it, tried to reason an answer that she did not know. The lock on there was due to the electrics that were housed underneath the stairs. It helped keep the kids out, only Petunia or Vernon had forgotten to remove it once the kids had grown up.

But that didn't make sense either. Looking at the small, cramped squarish door, the woman took in the multiple locks. So many that they went all the way down to the floor. Thankfully, none of them were locked, and as if on auto pilot, the woman yanked the door open. What she saw made her freeze, her heart to momentarily stop and caused her to reach out and clasp the door frame to keep herself standing. She didn't even notice when her fiancé came to an abrupt stop behind her, peering at the same scene she was from over her shoulder, tensing harshly as he took in the same thing she was.

A rusty old cot, which the woman believed could give you tetanus just from looking at it, was pushed as far away from the boiler as possible in the small room. Still not far enough away that it wasn't a fire hazard or the person who was laying on the cot wouldn't be in danger of getting scolds and burns to their feet. The thread bare and holey blanket was clean, but barely anything but a few threads still hanging together miraculously.

A small shelving unit drilled into the wall near the head of the cot, leaving even less room for the person who the cot belonged to, had tools lying on them, likely Vernon's, but the instruments was broken up by little bits and pieces that didn't belong there.

A pair of round glasses that the woman knew belonged to James Potter's, they still even had the little crack in the corner of the left lens from the time she and Lily had tried to teach the fully grown man how to ride a bicycle and he had face planted a tree. James being James had found the whole thing hilarious, despite his profusely bleeding nose, cracked glasses, and two frazzled women fussing over him. In retrospect, he most probably enjoyed that last part a bit too much.

The woman would never forget the sound of the smack and crunch of his face hitting the cherry tree right after he had happily shouted out 'Look Lils, I'm doing it. I'm actually doing it!'. Of course, after the incident, he had mumbled something about insane muggles riding metal death traps. God know's what a Muggle is, the woman put it down to a London slang word.

The next thing that seemed out of place was a small, plain in comparison to some, Locket. It was silver, but the front part had an enameled lily decorated on the front. The woman's hands nearly itched to pick it up. It was Lily's locket, one the woman had brought her sister herself for Lily's sixteenth birthday from an old jewellery store down the road from Privet drive.

The last thing was a small photograph held in a worn wooden frame that had obviously been taken care of, by Harper the woman would guess. It was a simple photo, Lily and James huddled together, smiling at the camera, little chubby, ebony curled and rosy cheeked Harper propped between them safely in a loving embrace. The sight nearly brought tears to the woman's eyes, in all honesty, her throat clogged with restrained emotion and her vision blurred from the moisture gathering in her eyes. She had taken that photo just a few months before they had died. The very last time she had seen the two alive, the last time they had been a happy family.

The woman couldn't take any more and slammed the door to the cubby hole with a resounding bang as she stumbled back and into her fiancé's arms. That answered where little Harper had slept. The woman felt sick, vile and more than slightly rageful at the dead Dursley's.

Under the stairs. They had kept Lily's and James's precious daughter under the stairs like a dog. The woman knew, just knew, if they had kept her under the stairs, locked her in there by the amount of locks on the damned door, then this was just the pinnacle of what Harper's life had been before now. The tip of the ghastly iceberg. How could they do this? How could they live with themselves in there pretty little house and nice bedrooms when Harper was down here, in... There. It wasn't a bedroom, the woman refused to call it that. It was a pet cage to shove an errant puppy in. She felt sick... She was going to be sick.

Did the court know about this? Someone must know about this and yet they had done nothing. They had left her here, alone with people who, despite the woman's distaste of Vernon and Petunia up until this point, now knew were not quite human. You couldn't be human if you treated a child, a child who had no parents or other family members like this.

God, all she really ever wanted was to be a mother, something that had been torn away from her. And here she was finding out that Petunia, the woman who was blessed with not only one chance at motherhood but two, had thrown it all away. No, not thrown it away, the woman doted on Dudley, but flung her second chance in the mud and stomped on it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. Who had let this happen, and why had they?

Large hands landed on her shoulders and spun her around briskly, bringing her out of her swirling thoughts. Dazedly looking up with large eyes, the woman took in the blank but drawn face of her fiancé, realizing he must have come to the same conclusion she had.

"Take a deep breath. Calm down. Harper will be here soon and she doesn't need to see you in such a state. That... In there..."

Her fiancé glanced towards the under stairs cupboard and the woman could feel his hands tighten a fraction on her shoulders, a dark look glimmering in his eyes and a tenseness to his jawline she hadn't seen before. But just because she hadn't seen it before didn't mean she couldn't name the fire that was lurking underneath his skin. He was pissed, beyond pissed, the dangerous type of anger that would slowly simmer.

Reaching up and grasping the hand on her shoulder, she squeezed tightly, it being her turn to bring him back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him. She knew her fiancé didn't have a good childhood, he didn't talk about it but she knew all the same, and whatever this finding had made him flashback to could not be healthy to remember or think about right now. Not with Harper on her way here right this second. With a cough into a clenched fist, he carried on.

"That room will need to be pushed back for later. The most important thing to do right now is welcome Harper. To... Get her away from here, to a safe place. To take her home."

The woman danced her fingers across the skin of the back of his hand and felt herself settle. She would deal with this later. She wouldn't just deal with it, she would rain down hell upon any one and everyone who had a hand in this. That she did promise. But her fiancé was right, right now she had more important things to focus on. Harper was coming and she didn't want to startle the poor girl more than she already would be by the turn of events over the last week.

"Home. I like the sound of that. Me, you and Harper. At home."

Once again the woman was greeted with a warm smile, and this time found herself mirroring it back. The past would stay in the past, what mattered was what happened now. Now? Now was the time to make their little family, and to do that the woman needed to keep a cool head and get them all home in one piece.

The two people standing close to one another in the hallway were pulled apart by the sound of the front door being opened, the woman watching avidly as a tall, thin and strict faced woman, with her hair tightly pulled into a bun walked in with narrowed eyes. Someone smaller standing just out of sight behind the woman who had entered first.

"I thought we had agreed to meet outside, not inside."

The tall woman was Scottish by her thick accent, and not someone to mess with by the way she held herself stiffly but equal amounts proudly. But the woman was not going to back down, she wasn't going to be intimidated, not when she was already reigning in her anger as much as she was. She needed to get herself, her fiancé and Harper out of this house and on their way home, before either she or her fiancé lost their control and let loose on the strict looking woman.

"Yes well, we thought we would start loading up the car. The trip is going to be long and by the time it is already, we wont get to Hells Kitchen before midnight at least. Where's Harper?"

The Scottish woman's face gave way to a flash of confusion before she managed to pull her blank mask back into place. The sight gave the woman a feeling of quiet triumph from unseating the Scottish woman, who looked like she could take on a bulldozer and still be standing with the damned slightly superior look still in place.

"Hell's Kitchen?"

The woman pulled further away from her fiancé and straightened her spine. The Scottish woman was digging for information, and if the adoption agencies hadn't told her where Harper was going to live from now on, then obviously this woman didn't need to know. The woman was also a little more than on edge from her silent dismissal of her very simple question. Choosing to ignore the Scottish woman, she tried to see around the grey haired woman's tall and willowy figure to see the smaller person behind her, speaking softly as she did so, hope twinging at her word.

"Harper?"

The Scottish woman went to speak again, her mouth already half opened when the sound of small padded footfalls broke up the silence as the smaller person came out from behind her. The woman nearly swallowed her tongue when she took in the person who had to be Harper Potter. She couldn't be anyone else, not by how much she looked like her parents.

Harper was small, in all forms, thin and barely reaching five foot four. The baggy, worn and black clothing she was wearing didn't help the matter either. Her skin was pale, almost reminding the woman of a painting in her gallery that had simply been named fresh. Her hair was cut off at her shoulders, wild ebony curls twisting and curling around the place. So much like James Potter's hair that one year he had grown it out after loosing a bet to his wife Lily. She looked so much like James, from the high arch of her eyebrows, to the sharp swoop of her still developing cheekbones, to her plump set of lips.

But her eyes, by god her eyes were like looking into the past and seeing her sister Lily staring back at her alive and well. Although right now Harper seemed to be refusing to meet her eyes head on with her own, that didn't stop the recognition the woman felt. They were large, almost comically so on her small heart shaped face, with thick black lashes lining them as they stared off into the corner. They were green, the type of bright green that was both unsettling in its vivacity and enchanting at the same time, the colour only being made sharper by the white of her skin and the blackness of her hair.

Subconsciously, the woman stepped forward and tried to take as much of Harper in as she could. She was a beautiful teen, no doubt about it, but she was so thin. Without her meaning to, she glanced back at the cubby hole under the stairs and flinched back to Harper.

Harper wasn't naturally thin, although she might be once the woman had managed to plump her up a bit, she was thin due to other reason's that weren't hard to guess. The woman felt sick again. Violently sick. Taking in a calming but staggered breath, the woman looked again to the teen that was still gazing at something in the corner, refusing to make eye contact. Another sign that spoke of her life before, and as if the thought was calling upon the devil, the woman's eyes flickered down to the bare shoulder of Harper's that came into view by the large black shirt falling down her slim frame.

Purple, green and yellow was blossoming on her shoulder, or rather, had blossomed and was in the throws of healing. The woman blinked rapidly in shock as she took it in, but Harper must of felt the slip of the material as she hastily pulled the large shirt into place faster than lightening, wincing slightly as she did so. The woman didn't feel just sick anymore, she felt like crying.

Thankfully, the crashing of emotions raging in her made her more determined. Determined to get Harper the hell away from here, and if she had any say, to never come back to this hell hole. The only way Harper was ever coming back here would be over her dead body. When the woman spoke, it was as soft as a feather and only aimed at Harper, ignoring the reddening face of the Scottish woman who was still in the doorway.

"Are you ready to leave Harper?"

The teen seemed to jolt to, obviously having been lost in her own mind moments prior. When Harper looked at her, she still didn't meet her eyes, instead choosing to look at her nose. It made the woman's heart fracture a little. Harper gave a little nod, really nothing more than a tilt of her head as she fiddled with the hem of her sleeves, her voice barely above a whisper as she spoke.

"I just need to pack a few more things."

The woman watched as Harpers eyes flickered to the cubby hole behind her quickly before zeroing in on her nose again. When the teen made no inclination of moving, the woman guessed Harper didn't want her or her fiancé to see where she had been sleeping. The woman couldn't blame her, that would take time and trust. Something the woman was willing to spend years and blood on building.

When Harper was ready and comfortable enough to talk about her life before now to her, she would be all ears, until then she would not push Harper. So instead of doing the reckless and stupid move of dashing those first tendrils of trust she was trying to build, the woman smiled warmly, even if she felt anything but that right now, and turned to face the Scottish woman as she spoke.

"Well, We'll take your bags outside to the car and wait for you there okay? I need to have a quick chat with...?"

The Scottish woman's accent was stronger than before, due to anger the woman guessed, as she gave her a one word answer to.

"McGonagall."

The woman nodded and then they were all in movement, as if circling each other wearily. Her fiancé went for the little suitcase, causing Harper to back away from the stairway and subsequently him as he came closer, causing the woman's heart to clench at the sight of how skittish Harper seemed to be. Jesus Christ, what had she been through? Her fiancé was intimidating, the woman would admit that, even bouncers seemed to skirt around him when possible, but Harpers automatic response to him coming closer, to herself coming closer to Harper as she made her way to the door could mean only one thing, something the woman didn't want to think of, didn't want to give voice to. But it seemed whether she wanted to acknowledge it or not, it was there all the same. Physical abuse.

As soon as she, McGonagall and her fiancé had stepped outside, the woman glanced backwards and watched as Harper closed the door firmly shut behind them. As soon as she heard the clink of the door handle settling into place, the woman let go of her anger. Snatching up the Scottish woman's arm up, she dragged her down the pathway to the Limo waiting to take them to the airport. Her fiancé was already near the car, slipping Harpers bag into it.

McGonagall spluttered at her man handling, but the woman didn't care, as soon as they reached the end of the driveway, far enough away so Harper wouldn't hear the torrent she was about to let loose, she let go of the woman's arm and whirled on her. Unfortunately, McGonagall had gotten the first word in.

"Where's Hells Kitchen?"

The woman's hand tensed down at her side, she had never felt the urge to punch someone before, but as always, there was always a first and this McGonagall seemed to be prime candidate for the privilege.

"America."

McGonagall tensed as she grew more red in the face, her words snarled through clenched teeth as she sniffed and pushed her glasses further up her bird like nose.

"You can't take Harper to America! She has school in-"

The woman had grown fed up of the attitude the woman was giving her. She was fed up of being kept in the dark. She was fed up of everything to do with this long and arduous battle that had grown more serious than she originally believed it to be. Harper had been abused. Abused. And these people, these fuckers had kept her away from the teen. They had let this happen, maybe not this woman, but the woman needed to vent at someone or she was going to explode.

They had dumped Harper here, had allowed this to happen when the woman was an available option of a safe and loving home. They had kept her away, and although she knew she had tried her hardest to at least have visitation rights and custody when the Dursley's had banned her from such, she still felt like she had failed Harper. She had failed Lily. No more. Now she knew, she wouldn't let this carry on. The woman crept closer to McGonagall, her own voice seemingly even despite the obvious rage lurking underneath each terse word.

"I can and I will! You seem to forget I am now Harper's legal guardian. If I find out you or any one else had a hand in this... What happened to Harper, I swear to god I will tear you down. Do you understand me?"

McGonagall looked like she was at a loss for words, but all too soon she seemed to have found her tongue and started speaking once more. The woman's hand curled into a tight fist.

"You don't understand! You can't just... Just abscond with Misses Potter to America of all places! She has school she need's to go to. This... This is not what the... Adoption agencies agreed to surely!"

The woman had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from saying something she would later regret. However, swept up in her anger, McGonagall in her disbelief, neither woman noticed the looming figure of her Fiancé before he spoke up from the woman's side, facing McGonagall, his tone polite but distinctly cold as an arctic blast.

"All Legal documents have been signed and agreed upon by both parties. If you haven't been informed of the circumstances and arrangements, then the fault lays on you or your end. Harper is coming with us. If you try to do anything to obstruct this, then my legal representatives will take action before you could blink. And I promise this is something you would prefer not to happen. So please step away from my soon to be wife, away from the car, and keep quiet. And while you are at it, please inform the people responsible for Harper's case that they will hear from me in the future due to the inadequate care, check ups and all over handling of my niece. I am not someone to cross Mrs. McGonagall, you and your... Team are very close to crossing that line."

McGonagall blinked owlishly up at her fiancé, but thankfully kept her mouth closed and backed away from them and the car. The silence that had settled around them was broken by the front door of Privet Drive opening and closing, Harper stepping out into drive way. She had taken the time to get changed from the all black ensemble she was dawning earlier, now in a large white t-shirt and jeans that must have been held up by a belt or two. Scruffy trainers that had seen better days long past were on her feet and a torn up back pack slung over one of her shoulders. Harper eyed the three of them hesitantly, seemingly able to pick up on the claustrophobic and smothering atmosphere.

"Is everything alright?"

Harper fiddled with the strap of her back pack as she edged down the drive way and towards them, eyeing up the Limo behind them. The woman was the first to regain her bearings and smiled a smile as big as she could muster, turning around she opened the door to the Limo and ushered Harper inside, not quite daring to touch her. Not after seeing her reaction to her and her fiancé even walking closer earlier.

"Perfectly fine Harper. Why don't you hop in and then we can get on the road and be home before you know it."

Harper gave a shaky nod, but as she was halfway into the Limo, having just sat down and had her back pack clasped tightly in her lap, as if the old thing was her shield, McGonagall spoke up.

"If you need anything Misses Potter, anything at all, you know where I am."

Harper nodded once again and muttered what sounded like a 'Thank you professor'. The woman wasted no more time, needing to get away from Privet drive nearly as much as Harper needed to. Sliding into the car, she shot McGonagall one more look, one less hostile then before. Then her fiancé slide in next to them and the car door was slammed shut. The rumbling of the Limo was soothing as they drove off, the woman easing with every foot she had gotten Harper away from Privet drive.

"So Harper... Did Petunia ever talk to you about us? About me?"

Harper glanced up but still only made it to her chin, she seemed to be churning her answer around her head.

"Not really."

Of course, she should have seen that one coming. Painting on a smile, she tried to ease them into a comfortable conversation.

"Well, there's no better way to start then an introduction is there?"

Looking to her side, she watched as her fiancé leaned forward so Harper could see his face. Then she turned back towards an anxious Harper who was flicking the back pack strap between her fingers, backed as close to the corner as she could possibly be.

"This here is my Fiancé, Wilson Fisk and I'm Vanessa Marianna."

* * *

AN: Chapter two has landed. I knew it wouldn't be long before the chapter lengths would grow, and I hope you guys don't mind long chapters, I honestly can't reign myself in. I had planned this chapter to be around 2, 3k but here we are nearly around the 6k mark.

As you can see, I've fiddled with Daredevil cannon. This is set before Daredevil season 1, but I've made Vanessa and Wilson a couple already. Why? Because I couldn't resist the temptation of having Fisk in a parental role, especially when him and Harper having been through similar situations of abuse. I think if anyone can help Harper with that, it would be Fisk, and to be honest, big papa Fisk was just too insistent on coming out to play. And if anyone needs someone big who takes no shit to back their corner, it's Harper. Plus, when Wesley and that whole relationship starts to blossom, it's going to make it ten times more juicy. If I wanted to keep everything cannon, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. XD

Talking about characters, Although this is mainly around Harper and Wesley, with heavy dashes of Fisk and Vanessa, there will obviously other players coming into play. On my poll, although he got lesser votes than the ones who won, Nobu was still highly requested. So, expect him to crop up a lot in this story, not romantically, but he will be around.

NEXT UPDATE will be **PURPLE HAZE,** so this will most likely be updated at the end of this week.

A big THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited. And I hope this chapter is to your liking.

PLEASE review, it stops me from worrying. As always, stay classy!- AlwaysEatTheRude21.


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